Bad Boys for Hire_Nick_Christmas Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  “So you won’t see me like this.” She wiped her eyes, sniffing. “Because I’m going to cry anyway, and I won’t blame you if you don’t ever want to come back again.”

  “Oh, Carol.” He went to the ground, kneeling next to her. He put her head on his shoulder and he hugged her. “I’d rather hear you cry every morning than wake up alone without you.”

  “But when the newness wears off, would you still want this? When I get sick or have to go to the doctor. When I get old and lose my strength. Everything is inconvenient. You’ll always be waiting for me to do this or that. Everything takes me longer.”

  “You will never wear off with me. I’ll be there when you’re sick, and what you think is inconvenient only gives me more reason to be by your side, helping you if you need, or waiting for you if you can do it yourself.”

  She hugged him tightly, then let him go. “Why, Nick, are you so perfect?”

  “No one’s ever said that about me.” He grinned. “Maybe it’s because being with you means I spend a lot of time on my knees.”

  A giggle tittered through her teeth, and she shook her head as she dried her tears. “You always have the right lines, too. You really know how to make a woman feel important.”

  “It’s because you are.” He stood up. “Now, go to the loo, and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

  “Honestly, Nick. Do they have more like you wherever you come from? Because all my friends could use a guy like you. Marisa, too.” Shaking her head, she wheeled herself into the adjoining bathroom and shut the sliding door.

  Carol transferred herself to the toilet and prepared her bathroom routine. It sucked that she couldn’t be spontaneous and jump on Nick when he was perfectly ready and willing to make another go at it.

  The man must have a magic dick that could get up for anyone, no matter who the client was. Or maybe he’d primed himself before she woke, so that he could have that glorious hard-on and have her believe she’d been the one who stimulated it.

  Either way, it was better to let him know everything about her disability in gory detail. Not only could she not feel below her waist, she didn’t even know if her bowels and bladder were full.

  Talk about clueless.

  And then, there were the unavoidable accidents.

  Completely mortifying.

  But she’d told him and he’d taken everything in stride, even telling her he’d either help her or wait for her. And now, he was out in her kitchen making breakfast for her. After cleaning her apartment and doing the dishes the night before. Oh, and not to forget the perfect hard-on, the enthusiastic oral sex against her dead pussy, and then the vigorous fucking.

  Nick was either the perfect man, or he was a perfect escort. She hadn’t hired him. Could it be someone had hired him for her? For the entire month of December on her behalf?

  She couldn’t help remembering how Ken had met Jolie. Despite all their denials, Ken was almost hired to be Jolie’s replacement groom when her real one stood her up. Afterwards, Nikki had induced Ken to meet Jolie at her groomless honeymoon to pay attention to her and make her happy. It had worked so well they fell in love, but not before a long and sad breakup to sort through their feelings.

  Carol groaned into her hands and sighed deeply. She was too smart of a woman to be drawn in so easily. If Nick was giving up Bad Boys for Hire and all of his personal clients just to take a part time job at Wheelympics, he must have someone rich backing him.

  Someone who saw nothing wrong with paying a man to make a woman happy.

  The question was who loved her enough to pay? Or maybe who hated her enough to have her played?

  Marisa didn’t make enough money as a nurse, and she wanted Carol to go out with Jason.

  The Bumblebees could be culprits, especially Jolie or Nikki, whose families had money.

  Brother Ken? A possibility since he and Jolie had met that way and were now happily married and expecting. He was also making money modeling, and his acting career was promising.

  Mother or Father? Another possibility. Her parents had been divorced forever, and each of them had new lives with their new spouses. Both had felt guilty about not moving in to take care of her, and of course, she had vehemently pushed them away, telling them to continue with their lives.

  Either parent in cahoots with one of the Bumblebees would be the most likely to hire Nick. Reserve him for the month of December and pay him to pay attention to her—maybe he was waiting for her to ask him to the Christmas Gala.

  Carol finished up her bathroom duties and transferred herself into the shower. She had to go to work today, and Nick had an interview with Wheelympics.

  But there was nothing stopping her from doing a little investigation on the side. She’d call Bad Boys for Hire and offer to hire Nick and see what they said.

  As the warm water splattered over her body, she relaxed, and spread shampoo over her hair. Whether real or fake, he’d made her feel like a million bucks. She could either take the bull by the horns and go along with it—after all, what was wrong with enjoying a man like Nick, or she could bust his balls and accuse him of being a prostitute.

  She washed and rinsed off the shampoo, then soaped her body. Dare she slip a finger between her legs? Had it all been in her imagination?

  Closing her eyes, she circled her clit. It felt slippery and juicy, and larger than she remembered. A faint tingling sensation had her catching her breath. She rubbed lightly, afraid to dull the hint of something far away—a thin thread that she could pull, strand by strand, closer.

  The titillating image of Nick’s mouth and tongue lapping between her legs, the taut body with the abs that pumped and pumped, the ass humping over her, and the giant cock stretching her, opening her insides, hitting every nerve up to her heart. Everything blossomed, sending her spiraling up in a symphony of sensations.

  “Nick, Nick!” she shouted. “Nick. Oh, gawd, Nick.”

  She brought the handheld showerhead down and set it in pulsing mode. She held it between her legs as her fingers twirled and pumped.

  “Nick!” she moaned. “Nick, you feel so good.”

  And then, he was there. Dripping wet, kneeling in front of the shower seat. His mouth crashed over hers, hungry and greedy, and his big, muscular body pressed her against the wall. He tore her hands from between her legs and held them above her head.

  His lips, tongue, teeth, everything ravished her, kissing and sucking her neck, her breasts, her belly, turning her into warm jelly.

  “Nick, I need you inside. Need you.” She arched her breasts against his chest, wishing she could spread her legs, but knowing everything was in his control. “Let go of my hands. I want to touch you. I want to suck you in deep. Please, Nick.”

  “Later, sweet Carol.” He dropped her hands and spread her legs, teasing her by painting her pussy with his cock. “Do you want this? Do you want me to make love to you?”

  “I want you to fuck me good.”

  “Oh, I will, but right now, I’m going to love you even better.” He held himself against her entrance.

  She grabbed his hips and pulled him into her. Her eyes widened and she gasped. “I felt that. I feel you inside of me. I swear. I’m not imagining it.”

  He folded his arms around her. “That’s because I’m your other half. I’m meant to be in there.”

  At this point, what did it matter if those were beautiful paid for words or the real deal? Carol held onto Nick tight, pressing her entire heart and soul against him and let him move her entire universe.

  He swiveled his hips, slow and hard, and she was flying high. Pleasure stretched like hot taffy, pulling and sticking, as he rocked inside, stroking every needy spot deep inside. Her heart put out a welcome mat, and with every scintillating motion, she sucked him deeper and deeper into her dreams.

  Changing the angle, he pressed her so that his hot shaft rubbed her clit on each stroke in and out. It moved her entire core and burned her with something so exquisite, so precious that tears ran
down her face.

  “Nick, if you ever stop loving me, I’ll die. Don’t ever stop this. Ever.”

  He covered her mouth with his and thrust in his tongue, matching the movement between her legs. His hands covered her breasts, massaging them, and pinching her nipples, as he urged her on like a jockey applying the whip.

  She needed more, and she dug her fingers, squeezing his taut ass. “Faster, harder. I need you, Nick. Oh, yes! Yes! Nick!”

  She came harder and faster than the night before, sure now that he was deep inside. He grunted and moaned, his entire body jerking and hitting hers, drilling his cock as deep as his love.

  “Oh, Carol. Carol. I love you.” He gripped her tightly, so tight that she lost her breath.

  She wanted to say she loved him too, but she couldn’t, because even if she did, what use would it be? Her heart tore with pain, and she clutched him, not wanting to let him go. He was like a drug, a powerful potent, addictive stimulant, and even if she had to give him her last dime, she would—just to feel the way she did now: strong, desirable, hot, loved, and completely whole.

  Thirty-Two

  “I don’t usually eat a big breakfast, but this was wonderful.” Carol wiped her lips after downing Nick’s ham and cheese omelet. “You really do know how to spoil a girl.”

  “That’s because you deserve it.” Nick gave her a chaste peck on the cheek.

  “You do, Carol,” Marisa agreed. She’d only just woken up and had been giving Carol the inquisitive eye across the table.

  “Unfortunately, we all have to go to work.” Carol avoided her sister’s glance. No doubt, she had probably heard all the commotion they’d made in the shower and wanted details.

  “I have that interview with Wheelympics.” Nick picked up the plates. “Let me load the dishwasher for you.”

  “No, you’re too good to me already,” Carol protested. “I can do it.”

  Marisa put her hand on Carol and leaned toward her. “Let him do it. That’ll give us a chance to swap stories.”

  “Uh, I’d like to keep things private,” Carol said. She didn’t grow up with Marisa since she was her stepsister, and in any case, what happened between her and Nick was either very, very special, or it was sleazy if any money had changed hands.

  “Have you asked him to the Christmas Gala this Friday?” Marisa’s whisper was too loud.

  Carol shook her head as her stomach sank. “What if he says no? Or he’s busy?”

  “He won’t be too busy for you. Trust me,” Marisa said. “You’d better let him know if he has to rent a tux. Friday’s only a few days away, and even Sherelle has a real date. Not Gage.”

  “Not Gage? Wow. How did that happen?”

  Marisa shrugged. “We lied to her. Told her she wasn’t getting the free evening gown from you if she didn’t bring a date who wasn’t Gage Swanson.”

  “Oh, you’re too mean.” Carol wagged a finger at her sister. “I don’t know. That’s underhanded.”

  “Hey, better to be underhanded than empty-handed, if you know what I mean.” She hooked a long, meaningful glance at Nick. “I think you should ask him now before someone else asks him.”

  “Like who?” Carol narrowed her eyes at Marisa. “You thinking of asking him?”

  “Me? No way. If I want to keep living here with you, of course not.”

  Somehow, Marisa’s denial was too quick and vehement. A squirrely feeling curled in Carol’s stomach at the fact that Marisa was oftentimes underhanded. What if she’d already asked Nick, and he’d agreed to go with her? Or even worse, what if she’d hired him Friday night for herself?

  “What are you two whispering about over there?” Nick cocked his head back from the dishwasher and winked. “Couldn’t even wait until I get out of here before comparing notes?”

  “Me? No. I don’t compare,” Carol blurted. “I’m just wondering …”

  And what the heck did he mean by comparing? Had Marisa also had a happy ending with him? Ugh. If she had, Carol would wring her neck with her bare hands, and being a paraplegic meant her arms and hands were especially strong.

  “Go ahead. You can do it,” Marisa egged her on.

  “Do what?” Nick wiped his hands with a dish towel and straddled a chair backward. “You look awfully suspicious, blushing and stammering.”

  Carol’s heart somersaulted double and triple time. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt large and clumsy. Was this how guys felt when they had to do the asking? “Fri-Friday night. I, uh, I was wondering, uh, if you could …”

  She couldn’t do it. Not only was he not helping, but his face had taken on a deathly pallor. He rubbed his unshaven jaw and the corners of his mouth turned down.

  “Go ahead,” Marisa urged. “You can do it.”

  Warning bells clamored in Carol’s mind, but she’d come this far. Maybe Nick was thinking about his job interview. Or he had an obligation with his family. She’d never know unless she asked.

  “If you could go out with me on Friday,” she finished lamely.

  “I’m actually busy.” His knee jittered and one side of his jaw twitched. “But I can see you tonight, tomorrow, every night except Friday. What’s going on Friday?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Marisa jumped up. “You call the Bumblebee Christmas Gala nothing?”

  She turned on Nick. “Listen, buddy. This is the most important night for my sister. She’s the keynote speaker, and we all went to Hart in SF Design for new evening gowns. You have to drop whatever you’re doing and come with her. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

  “Marisa. Stop!” Carol slammed her palms on the table. “Nick is busy. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to go with you.” Nick got up from the chair. “I have something I can’t get out of.”

  “Like a previous engagement?” Carol’s voice turned ice cold.

  “Something like that.” Nick nodded stiffly.

  “Can’t you cancel it?” Marisa’s voice was shrill. “Things have changed between you and my sister, so whatever you had going on before, you should drop it.”

  “I, I can’t.” Nick’s eyes grew big, like he was pleading for her to understand. “I’m so sorry. I’ll try and get out of it and let you know.”

  “Don’t bother.” Carol pushed herself from the table. “Forget I asked. You don’t owe me any explanation.”

  Marisa’s jaw dropped as she stared first at Carol and then at Nick. “I don’t believe you two. It’s obvious something real happened last night, or I wouldn’t have spent the evening at Jason’s. When I snuck back here, you were all cozy and snuggly in bed together.”

  “Marisa, don’t make this worse,” Carol said. “I have to go to work. I’m late already, and I can hear missed call notifications on my phone.”

  She wheeled to the living room and fished her cell phone from the sofa.

  “Wait, Carol.” Nick took two lumbering steps toward her. “I’d love to go with you. You should have told me earlier.”

  “It’s okay.” She avoided his gaze. “Business comes first, and it looks like I have a lot to do at work today.”

  The interview with Wheelympics didn’t go well. At. All.

  First of all, Nick was late. Then, it turned out Patricia was more interested in signing him up as her personal trainer than seeing what he could do with the children.

  When he’d finally went over adaptive weight training with her, she disagreed with having the children stay in their wheelchairs. Her reasoning was that it would make them feel different and cause them to be self-conscious while in a gym setting.

  Nick was running out of options other than to take on male clients for personal training. Or he could join the police academy. Except a prostitution charge would disqualify him, not to mention shame his brother who’d never done a wrong thing in his life.

  Plus, he’d hurt Carol by not immediately agreeing to go with her to the party. He should have said “yes�
�� and dealt with Brianna later. What a mess he’d made.

  On the way home, he stopped by Love Me Flowers, the shop owned by Carol’s friend, Terri.

  “Hey, I remember you from the Toy Drive,” Terri said in a loud, blaring voice. “Nick, the Stalking Santa. You’re the one who was stalking one of my friends.”

  “Not really, I actually came to buy her flowers.” Nick shrugged and glanced around the tiny shop.

  “Seriously?” Terri, who carried herself like a battle axe, puffed herself up. “The nerve of you coming to my shop to buy flowers for my friend. I distinctly recall her saying I should hire any Santa Claus except for Nick Wolff.”

  “Is it for the Bumblebee party this Friday?”

  “Why should I tell you?” Terri came out from behind her counter. “Does your brother, the cop, know you’re still stalking her?”

  “I’m not stalking her. We’re actually good friends. I promise you. I’d like to buy her flowers to thank her for the wonderful weekend we had together.”

  “Huh. I’m going to have to check on this. You go take a look at what you want, and let me call my friend.”

  “Actually, I want to surprise her,” Nick said.

  “Huh, I’ll bet.” Terri stood her ground. “Why should I sell you flowers to harass her?”

  “I could have gone to any florist in the Bay Area,” Nick said. “I chose to come to you, because I thought you’d know what Carol likes.”

  “Oh, so we’re on a first name basis now. I know about the singing telegram you did. Saw the video online. But last I heard, she wasn’t interested in you.”

  “I’m not going to kiss and tell, but the truth is, I turned her down this morning when she asked me to go to the Bumblebee Christmas Party. I have work I can’t get out of, and I feel bad about it.”

  “Work you can’t get out of, huh? Sounds like you’re covering up for a guilty conscience.” Terri crossed her arms and glared at him as if he were a cheating husband. “I’m a florist. I know exactly why men buy flowers. They’re either whipped weenies or they screwed up, most likely with another woman. I don’t figure you for a whipped weenie, so the way I see it, you’re playing dirty.”